


Does it do the tango?

by orphan_account



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Cockblocking, Dirty Dancing, F/F, M/M, Magnus Bane Being Magnus Bane, Mundane Alec Lightwood, Mundane Magnus Bane, alec really wants to be manhandled by magnus bane, chairman meow - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-20 12:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9490769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: There’s a few seconds where they’re just breathing, where Alec’s fingers are burning against the skin under the waistband of Magnus’ underwear and Magnus just looks, stading over him - and then there’s meowing, loud and pitiful and Alec's mind comes to a stop.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by this prompt: "I met you in the club and you took me back to your place and I was expecting a one night stand but I noticed your three cats and now we're sitting on the floor talking about animals like 7 year olds" by tumblr user casserious on dailyau. title is a reference to a danish children's song bc I'm full of irony as usual. lots of backstory bc all I wanted from the books was alec/aline gay solidarity.

He doesn’t make a habit out of it.

 

He _couldn't_ make a habit out of it, between long hours and his studies on the side, keeping up with Max and his parents somewhere in Europe, Jace and Isabelle and their bleeding hearts or lack thereof - he has a lot, he has enough of his plate to make sure drinking your face off every weekend isn't something that came easy. It happens sometimes, because of birthdays and holidays and promotions, that he lets Jace and Izzy drag him along and out. Sometimes, not often, but sometimes he's even them worry about getting home and gone with someone else on the other side of midnight, because picking your underwear off of someone else's kitchen floor is a low point that everyone should experience once in a while.

And finally, sometimes it happens because what better reason is there than childhood friends and newfound solidarity.

 

The Penhallows had always been friends of his family. They were that 'old money die hard' kinda rich that meant investments and shares and holiday houses on three continents. Alec's father and Patrick Penhallow were colleagues at one point in time, but all Alec can remember of their time together was elaborate cook-outs in back gardens the size of parks. Aline's a year younger than him, a year older than Jace and Isabelle and she got along with all of them like wildfire. All that space and no siblings to map it out with isn't healthy for a kid, Robert always said, like buying 600-dollar tuxedos for your ten year olds was the pinnacle of normal parenting.

They had moved to France when Aline turned nine, slipping quietly out of their lives, until years later when Aline had found him on facebook, after 'tracking him the fuck down' apparently.

And they got older. And Alec told Aline about Jace first and then about other boys and then regretted ever talking to her about Jace because _that_ was a giant failure. And Aline told Alec about the itch in her skin and about how being at an all-girl boarding school felt like heaven and hell in one and recently, she'd told him about Helen Blackthorn, she'd told him _a lot_ about Helen Blackthorn and then she'd called her _girlfriend._ And then they were coming to New York.

And what better circumstances to get shitfaced, really.

 

* * *

 

 

Aline hasn’t let go of his arm since the warm-up at his house. It feels a bit weird to see her - their personalities never really quite matched up and he was surprised when she sought out him before Jace. But there's always been that little patch of understanding between them, overcoming internalized self-hatred and identity issues so it made sense he supposed. Helen Blackthorn makes sense as well. If Aline had to fall in love with anyone, it makes sense that it would be a person her parents wouldn't approve of. Helen has bright eyes and wild, blonde curls and dark skin over fine pixie-like features. She looks like a color palette next to Aline's who’s all black-and-white, dark narrow eyes and straight hair and Helen is a mystery to look down at on the other side of Alec, snaking her arm around his after a while.

It feels good to be flanked like that. It’s cold outside and as the main point of their club-hopping is _to get you laaaiiiid, mi ami_ Aline had insisted Alec wore nothing but a light jacket over his t-shirt.

"I know you're new to New York," Alec says, as the muted beat from their designated location grows louder from around the corner, "but I'm sure we don't hold getting laid to the same standards you do in Europe." Next to him Helen laughs. Aline huffs, looks up at him.

"Where is the romance, Alexan-"

"It's Alec-"

" _Where_ is the romance, Alexander. You might meet the love of your life in a place like this.

The place like this is one of the less exclusive clubs in Brooklyn. There’s Pandemonium, which looks like the kind of place you'd find businessmen and leather fetishists mingling nightly. There’s Output, which Izzy likes and The Panther Room which Jace - obviously - likes and then there’s this one. Twixie. Officially not a gay club, most definitely not the most heterosexual place on the planet either.

Helen nods solemnly.

They've stopped a bit away from the line as if to brace themselves. It’s a mixed crowd, a colorful crowd and Alec can already feel his skin buzzing. He doesn’t make a habit out of it but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy it from time to time.

"Coat check is four dollars," Helen says.  "You ready?" Aline hums excitedly.

They go ahead.

The music inside is so loud Alec's ear drums make a clicking sound, and on the way up to the bar he feels as if he punches at least three people in the face.

"This is something else, huh." Saying something casual and conversational while screaming it at the top of your lungs really does something strange to the whole situation. Aline and Helen catches up with him, hands clasped tightly in between them.

"This is amazing." Aline yells, eyes bright and a little glazed over. She taps her knuckles against the bar, seemingly trying to flag down a bartender but Helen is winding her fingers into her hair, pressing closer. She whispers something in Aline's ear and Aline seems to change her mind.

"Lightwood!" She yells, a hand on his arm. "Let's see if growing up with Isabelle gave you as much rhythm as you've claimed these past years." He laughs, tempted, but holds back. Aline frowns and Helen is already rocking to the music, throwing glances over her shoulder to the dance floor. "You're not gonna celebrate my return?" Aline asks and Alec nods, squeezing her hand.

"I'll see you out there in four shots." Dancing is one thing, but dancing sort-of-sober in a room heavy with intoxication was another. He turns around when Aline and Helen plunge into the middle of the crowd of bodies, light pulsing and beating its way into his veins. He catches the eye of a bartender, yells 'cuba strawberry' over the music and holds up four fingers. The guy nods and disappears down the bar as Alec turns halfway around to look over the room.

Maybe clubbing isn’t really his thing. There’s a lot going on at the same time, a lot of noise and impressions coming from all sides and it doesn’t always sit right in his head. But sometimes it makes him feel this - intensity, like sparkles. Like his skin is a thousand times more sensitive, like the volume of the music is just as powerful as alcohol. It makes him feel pent-up and panicky in a slightly addictive way, like an adrenaline rush and more than that, it mostly makes him horny.

The music beats its way through his arteries like a pulse, but too slow to keep up. Maybe Aline's idea of getting him laid isn't that bad. He looks down both ways, looks at the club-goers hanging at the bar.

"Four vodka shots?" Says a voice behind him, smooth over the music. Alec turns around and smiles at a new bartender, a black guy, with smooth planes of tight skin showing over his pants and all the way down his arms. There’s a definite glint in his eyes and a curl to his lips that Alec recognizes, that makes something exciting jump in his chest. He raises his eyebrows in surprise. Sleeping with the bartender could probably win him some serious respect from Aline. The guy leans against the bar, his tongue pressed to his teeth like he’s thinking. Alec looks - he has a pretty mouth, all curve and soft shapes. The guy sees him looking, of course - maybe it was half-way to an invitation a _look how pretty my lips are_ to test if Alec would bite or not. He fumbles under the bar for a second, then comes up with a marker and a napkin.

"I get off in two hours." The bartender says, jotting a number down. He pushes it towards Alec. "Hopefully." Then he winks and disappears down the bar.

For a while Alec grins at the transparency line, thinks about tasting the sweat on his stomach and getting a hand on his neck and then he comes to a stop, because two hours is a lot, even when waiting to get laid - maybe, he reflects, especially when waiting to get laid.

He looks over his shoulder as his fingers find the shot glass, already planning on going to join Aline and Helen. He downs the first shot and very nearly spits it back out. It’s _horrible_ , tastes like lighter fluid and skittles which makes the burn down his throat worse somehow. He’s not sure what he was drinking, but it definitely isn’t what he ordered. He looks at the other three glasses through squinting eyes. Definitely some kind of fucked up color and not the clear ones he wanted. He sighs, heavily, and wonders whether to suck it up or order some new ones when there’s a voice to his left, cool and slightly amused.

"Are you drinking my alcohol?"

Alec turns, sarcasm twitching on his tongue - and then his breath trips on an exhale. He didn't know people did that.

There’s a guy in front of him. Leaning against the bar with something like a swagger in the way his body sprawls, hips and shoulders cocked, falling open, head tilted. He’s wearing elaborate make-up, purple and black and gold, that does something drastic to his face, something dark and a bit dangerous. Open shirt in something that looks like silk and golden necklaces, dark nail polish, long fingers adorned with gold and stones and swirling bands that look like stars in his hand.

Alec can’t remember another time where he's been so fucking blown away.

The guy’s at him with this casually interested expression, like there’s something secret and kind of funny in between them. Alec shakes himself out of it, looks down at the shots. He waves his hand.

"You can have them back, _god_. It was a misfortune for both of us." He makes sure to scrunch up his face and sound as put-upon disgusted as possible. There’s something dominant about the guy’s nature that makes Alec want to be a brat. The guy arches both eyebrows.

"Not a fan of passion fruit?"

Alec laughs, mirrors his lean against the bar.

"That's not passion fruit. That's gasoline with fruit dye." That makes the guy laugh, real and bright, with a wide smile and crinkly eyes.

"You'd rather have strawberry then?" He asks and Alec must look surprised, because he jabs a thumb over his shoulder. "It seems we got mixed up. I took it without complaining though." And then the laugh is gone from his voice and there’s that little bit of a challenge, a little dark, a little mean. Alec looks down on the shot glasses and considers his options. He takes the second one, nods at the guy over the edge and knocks it back.

When he had gotten drunk the first time, on some orange-tasting Putinoff no less, Jace had taught him to notice the spasms your throat made when trying to keep you from swallowing something that felt bad. He’d told him to notice it first and then to force through it. Indirectly, it was also Jace who had taught how to deepthroat but that remained somewhere in Alec’s subconscious, not devoid of irony.

The last shot makes his throat work a little, tense up in intervals but he shakes it aside and breathes through his teeth. He blinks the fuzz away and looks at the guy in front of him - infinitely pleased to find him staring, mouth a bit open and little bit amused.

 

"My god. I'm Magnus." He says. Definitely amused. Alec nods.

"I'm Alec."

"Alexander?"

"It's - yeah." _Magnus_ nods, takes half a step closer and cocks his head to the side. Alec wants to feel that scruff on his throat.

"Alexander. Let me buy you a drink?" Alec nods and mirrors Magnus’ movements, leaning just a bit closer.

Magnus buys him drinks. White Russian and Rum and Coke and Tequila Sunrise and Alec laughs somewhere in between two of them, because that was _funny_ and he _got that_.

"Because they're sweet." He says, curling a hand around the stem of the white russian. Magnus smiles and looks at Alec’s fingers, all a bit obvious and careless - Alec can feel his skin hum with excitement.

"That they are."

Magnus buys him drinks and Alec barely drinks any of them, but for every drink paid, he moves a bit closer and Alec moves with him. Magnus looks magical under the lights and he’s funny and charming and flirty, but Alec mostly focuses on the naked skin under his shirt and the curl of his fingers. Magnus touches Alec’s elbow.

"Will you let me take you home, Alexander?" He asks and if it wasn’t so hot in here in the first place Alec might actually have blushed.

He grins into his drink, giddy, but before he can answer, someone rams into his shoulders, hard enough for him to jump.

"Alec!" Aline screams at him. Helen is hanging against her, hair wild around her face and Aline's cheeks are marvelously flushed, the red continuing down her neck. She grins up at Alec, eyes shining. "Come dance with us!" She says, about to continue when her eyes flickers to the side and she notices Magnus. Helen looks too and she is much more obvious than Aline, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. Magnus says nothing, just looks slightly, almost invisibly annoyed at being interrupted. His fingers twitch imperceptibly on the bar.

Aline's hand tighten around his arm and her eyes narrow at Magnus with something like a challenge. "You promised, Alexander." She says and Alec mumbles "It's Alec," just because he can and because Magnus is looking at him now, head tilted forward. Alec shrugs, smiling wide and lets himself be dragged away by Aline with his eyes on Magnus, hoping to convey a lot of morally questionable things in one look. Then Magnus disappears through the crowd and Alec finds himself dancing.

He’s not a particularly impressive dancer, usually doesn’t do it, but he knows how to move, has that bodily awareness you get from being the older sibling. There are people dancing up on him, girls and boys and he twirls with their bodies, before returning to Aline and Helen.

He likes this too, likes this little capsule that exists on dance floors where identity and everything else sort of melts together to a spectrum of nothing. He dances with Helen, feels light fingers on his shoulder and see the strobe lights in the glitter on her cheeks, before Aline pulled her back to her front. There’s another hand then, flat on his back and he spins around to continue and then just smiles instead.

Magnus has a hand on his chest and one on his waist and he starts moving with Alec now _._ He’s fluid, all controlled movements and assertiveness and Alec just lets himself be danced with, spun around, pushed. Sometimes Magnus smiles, brightly through the darkness and Alec can’t help but smile back, can’t help but respond to everything Magnus is doing. His thigh presses in between Alec's legs and Alec isn’t really one for grinding, he mostly thinks it to be kind of tacky, but his blood feels a little sick and his head is spinning and all he wants is to be pressed against Magnus somewhere quiet. Magnus' hand finds its way to Alec's hair and tightens in the curls, making him breathe out in a punch. He pulls Alec's head closer.

"Let me kiss you." He says and Alec's lips are on his neck, his jaw, his chin before they’re kissing, really kissing and it feels like a fucking avalanche. Alec moans and Magnus' hand twists in his. He lets himself be dragged from the dance floor, to the point of the bar closest to the exit, where the air is a little colder, a little quieter. He kisses Magnus again, winds his fingers in his shirt and if he wasn't losing his mind he might've reflected that he’s never actually felt this turned on before.

Magnus breaks off, both hands on the side of his face. His eyes are a little clouded, his make-up smudged and Alec whines, eyes plastered to his lips.

"Your - friends." Magnus pants, sounding put together even with his hips pressing against Alec’s. Alec shakes his head, trying to clear it enough to find out what Magnus is talking about. He collects his thoughts enough to remember that he'd given Aline the spare key that Jace usually had before they took off. He nods, a bit desperately.

"They're fine, they're fine, let's - I wanna-" Magnus thumb is at his lower lip, pulling a little.

"I know what you want."


	2. Chapter 2

He has Magnus pressed against the door as soon as it closed and Magnus just sounds pleased, scratching at Alec's skin under his shirt. Magnus has a great neck, long and smooth with pretty brown skin, Alec can see now that they have decent lighting and he wants to bite at it - so he does. Nips and sucks at the skin over his Adam's apple until Magnus' breath comes out shaky. Then he licks, a long wet stripe up the pulse point that has Magnus squirming against him, wild and jittery and _strong_ . Magnus digs his nails into his shoulder, pulls downwards. Alec’s blood is _singing._

"Don't be a tease, Alexander, it's tacky."

He keeps kissing at every bit of skin he can find and lets Magnus wrench off his jacket. He can feel power under Magnus’ skin, feel the strength thrumming at his core and he wonders how pushy he has to be to get it out. Meeting Magnus' mouth again, he presses Magnus back into the door, just to feel those nails on his skin, to groan at the hips pressing harder against him. Magnus seems to like his lower lip - he clamps his teeth around it and doesn’t let go, just sucks the blood up under the skin until Alec slams a hand against the door, a broken whine in his throat. It _hurts_ like that. Not the bright hurt like his skin under sharp nails or his hair getting pulled. This is a deep hurt on the edge of unpleasant and it makes his knees buckle.

"You're the prettiest - "Magnus says when they break away, "-the _loveliest_ thing I've ever had in my apartment. Look at you." Magnus' thumb is at his lip. It feels bruised and sore - Alec wonders if it'll be blue tomorrow. He sucks Magnus' finger into his mouth and rakes his hand down Magnus' chest and over his stomach to where they’re pressed against each other, presses until Magnus closes his eyes and moans.

"And so _laconic_." He says. There's something about demoting an eloquent person to nothing but breaths and desperation but Alec sort of likes this, likes the feigned disinterest. He lets Magnus' thumb slip from his mouth with a pop and presses his hand harder against him, just to hear him sigh.

"Let me suck you off." He says and Magnus chokes out a laugh, his head falling back against the door with a thump. This time he doesn’t respond and Alec drops to his knees.

There's a hand on his neck though, and Magnus keeps pulling him up to kiss him, keeps him there to suck at his lower lip and there’s something deliciously shameless about the way Alec is suspended in midair, mostly on his knees with his head craned back. Alec presses his face into Magnus’ thighs as Magnus lets him sink to his knees again. With his fingers on Magnus’ fly he looks up to meet his eyes, wonders where he has to bite and how hard to get his hair pulled.

There’s a few seconds where they’re just breathing, where Alec’s fingers are _burning_ against the skin under the waistband of Magnus’ underwear and Magnus just looks, infinitely powerful and _looming_ over him - and then there’s meowing, loud and pitiful and Alec's mind comes to a stop.

Magnus head snaps up and he immediately groans, head coming to rest against the wall. Out of the corner of his eye, Alec can sense movement and then there’s a cat next to him. An actual cat, small and tabby and a little fat. It’s just behind him, a bit away from his feet, with its tail swishing from side to side as if it wonders how to get to Magnus without getting closer to Alec. Above him, Magnus sighs.

“Chairman Meow, meet Alexander. Pretty boy, meet the chairman.” The cat meows again and it has an unbelievable amount of character - it sounds offended. Alec looks back up and suddenly feels a little silly - there’s still an itch under his skin but it seems a bit misplaced now. His eyes flicker to the door behind Magnus.

“So - do I - do we?” His eyes are on Magnus’ face and Magnus is watching the cat through squinted eyes - Alec thinks he can see some accusation in them, somewhere. Then Magnus hooks a hand in Alec’s t-shirt and pulls him to his full height, pressing a hard kiss to his mouth.

“It’s fine,” he says with a light push to Alec’s chest. Alec lets himself be walked backwards, half-aware of the pitter patter of quick feet that must mean the cat running away from them. Magnus steers him down a hallway and against a wall, both hands on his chest.

“He’s just jealous,” and then they’re kissing again. Alec likes this position, likes feeling crowded and overwhelmed. Magnus’ kisses are angry and breath-taking and he can feel his pulse beat loudly in his lower lip that Magnus keeps going back to. Alec bites back, hard, and grins when he can feel the growl in Magnus’ throat. He bites until Magnus has a hand on his chin, forcing his head back against the wall until his throat is bared and he’s smiling at the ceiling.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” Magnus says against his collarbone, his free hand pulling up Alec’s shirt to scratch at his chest. “Get it off.” He mumbles and Alec scrambles to obey, dragging Magnus closer by his belt once his arms are free again. Magnus’ hands are everywhere, dragging over his shoulders and chest and back while Magnus himself is whispering into the skin on his throat, dirty little nothings that has Alec shaking apart. Magnus _talks_ so much, Alec’s never been with a person who did that, not even orgasm-fueled declarations of love or god or other obscenities - Magnus seems to have the power of the word.

“Let me take you to bed,” he says, fingers on Alec’s mouth again, “let me see what you can do.” Alec just nods, yanked at Magnus’ jacket for him to lead the way before another loud meow very nearly makes him jump.

The cat is back, sitting in the beginning of the hallway with that _swish-swish-swish_ of its tail and a mean look in its eyes. Alec stares at it and can’t help the frustrated groan he lets out, mirroring the way Magnus’ head had fallen back against the wall just before. Magnus laughs, a little bitterly and pushes himself off of Alec with two hands on either side of his head.

“You know what,” He says when Alec’s hands slips away from his jacket. “I think I’ll feed the chairman. You’re welcome to join us in the kitchen.” Then he pushes off the wall completely and goes down the hallway, swaggering as he walks. The cat trots after.

Alec stays leaning against the wall, hips forward and shoulders back. The sweat on his skin is cooling and he’s definitely sobering up and he wonders, briefly, if he should pick up his t-shirt and go the fuck home to deal with blue balls the way all god-fearing american citizens do it. But he leaves his shirt on the floor and goes past the entrance hall, continuing deeper into the apartment.

Magnus is in the far end of a big conjoined room, one of those with three functional rooms in one. He’s rummaging around in his cupboards and as Alec draws nearer, he can hear him muttering under his breath. Something about pretty boys and karma. The cat’s sitting on the breakfast bar, its tail flicking. Swish-swish.

“Everything okay?” Alec asks and immediately regrets it. Magnus’ head pops up behind the breakfast bar and smiles at seemingly nothing.

“Fine,” Magnus said, “just fine.” He holds up a finger, poised in Alec’s direction as he comes around the breakfast bar. “Stay there for a minute.” He says when he’s right in front of Alec. Then he goes off, into the hallway and Alec hears the door slam. He’s alone in the apartment.

In a stranger’s apartment, shirtless, with a cat staring mischievously at him from a breakfast bar, his lower lip pounding and a seriously suffering erection. Nothing makes sense, but when nothing makes sense, the best thing to do is to go with it.

He gravitates towards the breakfast bar, eyes trained on the cat. It doesn’t look like the type to scratch someone’s eyes out but the occasional _mrow_ s are so affronted Alec likes to think it’s yelling at him. He sits on one of the high chairs, slowly, as if not to surprise it. The tail flicks a bit more. Swish-swish. Swish.

Somewhere in Alec’s subconscious some serious self-reflection is going on, mulling over how everything he’s ever done has lead him to this very point in time.

The cat walks a bit closer, eyes blinking in the bright light of the kitchen. Alec puts his hand up, palm forward like a peace offering. The cat blinks at it, flicks its tail twice before pressing the top of its head flat to Alec’s palm, rubbing against his fingers. Alec breathes in, lets his fingers curl in the soft patches under its ears but mostly holds his hand still. It sniffs at his fingers, pushes and drags his hand around to accommodate where it wants scratches. Alec’s head is resting on his other hand when the cat slinks into his lap, curls up and starts purring. He sends a silent prayer and hope the cat keeps its claws to itself.

The door opens and closes again.

Magnus moves into his vision, smiles in a little wonky way at the sight of the cat in his lap.

“Did you, uh - find something?”

Magnus wiggles a can in front of Alec’s face and puts it on the counter, making the cat quirk its head up.

“My supplier has always been flexible.” For a second Alec does nothing but reflect on what a weird fucking thing that is to say. Then he looks at Magnus and decides, for the second time, to go with it. Magnus is a sort of breath-takingly handsome that does wholly embarrassing things to a guy like Alec. Now that they really have better lighting and Alec isn’t as tipsy or turned on out of his mind, Magnus looks a little more human and none the less amazing. His cheekbones are glistening with something that could be both make-up and sweat and Alec sort of wants it to be both. As he moves to open the can of cat food, Alec can see the muscles in his arm strain under the shirt that gapes open to reveal a frankly obscene amount of skin and is wondering if this is going _anywhere,_ when the cat jumps up on the counter and he startles.

“You’ve named him Chairman Meow?” It’s a sudden thought, but Alec has never been very good at filtering. Magnus pushes a tin bowl towards the cat and strokes with a flat hand down its spine.

“You catch on quick.” He says and Alec gathers himself.

“No, but like - after Mao.” Magnus nods once, amused, and leans against the breakfast bar. He considers Alec for a few seconds, then turns to open a cabinet on the wall, taking out two tall glasses. Opening the fridge, he says-

“People have been known to call their pets more outrageous things.” He comes around the breakfast bar to sit on the high chair next to Alec, presses an ice cold glass of water into his hand. Alec suddenly regrets not bringing his t-shirt but the way Magnus’ eyes flicker, the way his lips twitch makes it okay. Alec hums, tabs his thumb against the glass. “Church.” He mumbles, without thinking and Magnus moves in his seat. “Pardon?” He asks. God, everything about him feels so fucking _elegant_. Alec waves a hand around, for some effect.

“It’s - my brother. He has this cat, Church, but Max lives with our parents. They travel all the time, so like - “ he takes a break to wonder what the hell he’s doing and decides he’s too tired. “So it lives with the rest of is.” He takes a sip of his water, increasingly indifferent about what he's saying. And Magnus doesn’t seem to mind. Magnus is looking at him like people look at kids interfering with animals - cautious but ultimately charmed.

“And who are the rest of you?” He asks. There’s something else about him now, something infinitely calming that’s such a huge contrast from what he was like in the hallway. Alec thinks he can still see some of that fire crackle and pop under Magnus’ skin and decides he likes the contradiction.

“My sister and other brother.” He says. “We’re older than Max.”

There’s a beat.

“And you’re the oldest?” Alec snaps his eyes away from where they’ve been trained on the cat’s tail, flicking. He doesn’t bother asking how Magnus knows - he’s already waving a hand in the air between them, a smooth, tantalizing gesture. “It shows.” Magnus explains, like it’s a normal thing to say. “It just shows.” Alec decides to let it rest when Magnus continues. “But you see? Why Church?” Alec looks  up, shakes his head a little.

“I don’t know, I really - Max is such a weird kid, he says it’s because it suits it - the name, like - and it’s just… It’s the ugliest cat I’ve _ever_ seen.”

Magnus laughs at that, all smudged make-up and white teeth and Alec can’t help but feel a bit proud, a bit warm because making Magnus laugh feels _really_ nice. Magnus twists on the chair a little so he’s facing Alec now and Alec is astounded by how easy talking suddenly feels. There’s something inherently welcoming about the way that Magnus is leading the conversation around and Alec just follows the trail.

He’s warm now. The water glides down his throat like ice and his t-shirt is still in the goddamn hallway, so he blames it on Magnus, the soft, simmering warmth spreading out from the middle of his chest. He blames it on Magnus’ eyes and the way they darken, the way they squint and flicker in a way that makes Alec feel ridiculously appreciated, considered. Magnus is so goddamn pretty and Alec would probably be able to handle it better if it weren’t for the fact that Magnus just seems generally amazing. He’s so _eloquent_ , so thought-out and honestly kind of extra, but in the most human way possible. He says he's a lawyer and Alec loses his mind a little.

“You wouldn’t believe the sort of people who sit jury, Alexander, the irony is astounding.” That name keeps rolling off of his tongue every few sentences and Alec puts his glass down, stretches out his legs to rest his foot against Magnus' chair.

“No one calls me that.” Magnus eyes Alec’s legs with a smile that reaches every inch of his face. “Hm?” He says, placing his glass next to Alec’s. “Would you rather have me call you something else?”

“No. No, go on. I like it.” Something changes in Magnus’ face, something Alec might be imagine. It’s there, though, like a twitch of his lips - Magnus’ hand lands on Alec’s knee.

“You do.” He says, fingers tightening on the bone. He’s still smiling but it’s a little sharp now, cat-like. “I suppose there’s something special about hearing your name on a stranger’s lips.” His hand moves up Alec’s thigh, a slow press of finger tips that shouldn’t feel as riveting as it does. “ _Alexander_.” He says and it feels a bit too much like worship, so Alec squirms, pushes up against Magnus’ hand.

“Everyone and their mother knows an Alexander, it’s boring.” Magnus stops like he’s waiting for something, his thumb running along the seam on Alec’s inner thigh. His eyes flicker and Alec feels a little lost. “ _Magnus_ , though.” Magnus presses two fingers harder against his outer thigh.

Alec says nothing, draws out a breath. Magnus tilts his head. 

“Magnus.” Alec says and Magnus’ hand moves again, “ _Magnus_ ,” when his thumb presses against the zipper of Alec’s jeans.

“I think I like hearing my name on your lips as well.” Before Alec can say anything stupid, before he can say _do you want to hear me scream it,_ Magnus blinks once and taps Alec’s leg, leans away a bit. The moment is broken. Magnus squirms to fish his phone out of his pocket. He tuts, pockets it again.

“It’s almost four,” he says, “what wild lives we’re living, no?” Alec starts.

“Huh.” He says, looking at Magnus’ hand on his knee. “I was supposed to sleep with the bartender an hour ago.” He doesn’t mean to tease but it’s nice anyway, to see the quirk of Magnus’ eyebrow.

“Oh?” He says. “Did you waste an opportunity?” Magnus probably does mean to tease but Alec doesn’t even pretend not to fall for it.

“I’m keeping my options open.”

Magnus keeps eye contact for a few seconds before sliding off the chair. He stands in front of Alec, closer than before and he’s just a little taller now.

“Well,” he says, all business, “you’re welcome to stay on the couch, but the chairman is asleep and my bedroom has wonderful acoustics.” His voice is so professional that Alec almost misses the prod. He smiles, feels the itch come back under his skin. He’s about to say that stupid thing, or something like it, just to hear Magnus laugh and then-

Chairman Meow complains again, from where he was until now curled up next to them. He’s standing on the breakfast bar, stretching, eyes just as mean and attention-seeking. Magnus has his lips pressed together as if trying not to laugh.

“Ah, well,” he presses two fingers under Alec’s chin, “my bed is soft is nothing else.” He turns away from Alec to go down the hallway and the chairman jumps after him, tail raised in the air. Alec twists in time to see him bend while walking to scoop up his t-shirt.

Alec thanks the heavens he’s not allergic to cats and gets up so fast he scrambles.


End file.
